


cotton candy

by truthhurts (cicadas)



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Attempted Kidnapping, Choking, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Threats of Violence, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-06 00:52:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17335592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cicadas/pseuds/truthhurts
Summary: Tony knows an opportunity when he sees one.





	cotton candy

**Author's Note:**

> this isn't a crack fic. it's dark. please heed the warnings.

Peter turned away from the cotton candy stall with the largest stick of pink candy floss he’d ever had.

May had gone to get them drinks, but Peter had begged to get a cotton candy since they arrived just before dark, and now that the lights had started up and the carnival was filling out he wanted to get into the spirit, so of course he had to have a pink stick of sugar.

Except it was darker now, and May wasn’t where she said she would be.

He searched the rush of people, bright colours and music blasting from each ride blurring his senses, but couldn’t seem to see his aunt. A man shouldered his way past him to get to the stand, so Peter meekly moved to the side, gradually being pushed further and further away from the cart until he was in the middle of a crowd. Alone, with a stick of cotton candy.

He heard the voice behind him before he felt the firm hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, kiddo. You lost?”

Peter turned around to see a well-dressed man standing closely behind him, bearded face turned up in a friendly smile.

“Uh- Yeah. I can’t seem to see my aunt,” Peter replied, making sure to talk loud enough to be heard over the crowd.

The man held out his hand, large and rough-looking. “I’m Tony. What’s your name?”

Not wanting to be rude, Peter shook it. “Peter, sir.”

“Lovely manners, Peter,” Tony didn’t let go of his hand, only gripped it tighter. “Why don’t you come with me and we’ll find your aunt?”

It didn't come across as a question.

Tony tugged, and Peter let himself be pulled. They moved through the crowd effortlessly, the sea of people seeming to part for Tony as he more or less dragged the kid by his hand, his pace just that bit too fast for Peter to catch up.

Peter looked out at the crowd, scanning for long brown hair and a burnt orange cardigan as they made their way past the Ferris wheel. He saw a woman in orange, but- no, that wasn’t her. Peter looked forward and frowned. They were heading away from the main area, towards the parking lot.

“Um, Mr.- Tony? Sir, the fairgrounds keep going that way. This is-“ Peter tripped on a bit of rubbish and was tugged sharply upwards by the hand around his own.

“Careful, Peter.” Tony admonished, seemingly ignoring him.

“Tony, this is the parking lot,” Peter tried again. He turned his head back to the retreating carnival, the noises getting quieter the further they walked.

Peter’s nerves kicked in once his feet left soft grass and hit the firm bitumen of the lot. The hand around his fingers gripped at him hard, and his joints were beginning to ache. He tried to ignore the spike of fear that grew with each car they passed.

“Tony-"

“Here we are,” Tony cut him off, standing in front of a regular old Honda Civic, dark silver and lightly banged up. Not the kind of car Peter would expect a man of Tony’s appearance to drive.

Tony let go, then, and used his hand to gesture to the rear door of the car.

"Hop in," he said, voice light. Like he was asking him to hold the door, or wait for one moment. Cheery.

Peter squinted at him in the low light coming from the street lamps. His face was cast in a piss-yellow, making his features seem much more grim than they had under the bright, spinning colours of the carnival. The dips under his eyes and around his mouth were dark. Predatory.

Peter swallowed. "I don't know if driving around is going to help, sir, I mean, she's probably still in the crowd," He stuck a thumb over his shoulder, back at the carnival, the busy crowd suddenly seeming a lot safer than where he was right now.

Tony smiled, but there wasn't any humor in it.

"Get in the car, Peter."

It was the tone. That dark tone that was there, dormant, underlying all his words, now out in the open for Peter to hear. It sent a shiver through him that had nothing to do with the weather. Peter gripped the fabric of his sleeves into a fist. _One more time, tell him thank you, but you're fine, good-night-_

The click of the car door opening pulled him starkly into the present.

Silver Honda, empty car lot, open door.

Peter's voice was thick when he made his decision.

"Okay,"

Tony's stature changed immediately, loosening up, face losing its poisonous angles. "There's a good boy."

 

Peter climbed into the car carefully, hand trembling on the fake leather of the handle as he stepped in. A firm hand spread along his back and _pushed_ , and then he was inside. The door closed after him shortly after.

Inside the car, Peter felt 100% more isolated, but also somewhat calm. He was surrounded by familiarity. He’d ridden in a car just like this countless times. This one was no different - it was clean, it was plain, it smelled a little like takeout and cigarette smoke - but it also lacked any personality. No seat covers. No rubbish in the back seat. No air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror. Maybe because it was tacky; Peter wasn’t sure. Part of him doubted it was even his car at all.

The door opened on the other side, and the stranger climbed in.

“There we are, Pete, isn’t this nicer than that crowd back there?” He leaned over, smelling strongly of cologne and tobacco, and for a moment Peter was frozen. Then he heard the lock click into place behind his head.

"Sir, I really-" Peter’s half-assed plea was cut off.

"Pete, I really don’t think you’re showing much appreciation for my time, here. I took you out of that crowd where you might’ve gotten panicked or overwhelmed, or God forbid picked up by a strange man with bad intentions,” Tony was close, his breath incredibly hot on Peter’s face.

He pulled back, smirk barely seen in the low light. The windows were tinted. Of course they were.

"Or maybe that’s exactly what’s happened and you just haven’t realised it.”

Peter swallowed spit down his throat, dry, trembling. He didn’t want to be here any more.

The man laughed, a dark, empty thing, and Peter felt a hand on his thigh.

”I’m just kidding, Peter. You should lighten up some. Aren’t you having a good time?” Tony’s hand moved up, fingers digging into the fabric of his jeans, palm slowly rubbing circles into his flesh. “I know a way we can both get what we want. You show me how thankful you are for me helping you out, and I’ll show you a good time,”

The hand suddenly grabbed at his crotch and squeezed, and Peter jumped.

”Hey! What are you doing?!” The boy squeaked.

Tony didn’t move his hand, only gripped harder.

”Sir, let go, please, I don’t-“

”Peter, shhh, it’s alright. This is good for both of us. You just be quiet, alright?”

Peter canted his hips, wriggling toward the door as much as he could. His arm closest to the door-side reached up for the handle, but one, two, three tries of the handle reminded him it was locked.

The hand on his crotch left, and a strong grip wrapped around his wrist, twisting it away from the door.

”Ow, hey!”

Peter tried to yank his hand away, but the man was stronger, suddenly a looming threat over his small frame.

 

“Peter, stop it.” Tony seemed bored, his fingers digging into Peter’s soft flesh.

”Let me go!”

”You’re being a brat, now stop moving. I was going to take care of you first, but seeing as you’ve decided to misbehave...” Tony pulled Peter’s wrist forward effortlessly, turning him in his seat so his back was to the door.

”Get that fucking look off your face, kid.” Tony demanded.

The language had Peter whipping his head up to look at him. He wished he hadn’t. Tony was staring at him, eyes dark, mouth set in a straight line, focusing on him intently. If it was meant to frighten him, Peter was frightened.

”That’s a little better - you look pitiful when you’re scared, you know that? Has anyone ever told you that before? Probably not. I doubt anybody has given you the experience I am right now, sweet thing. That’s alright. I’ll guide you through it. This is a proper thank you, Peter.”

His hand was brought forward stiffly, until his fingers grazed the rough metal of a zipper. Peter’s gut turned.

"Please," His voice was a pathetic whimper, “I’ve never-"

"If you open your mouth one more time and you haven’t undone my pants I’ll hit you across the jaw. You don’t want that, and I don’t want that, so undo my fucking zipper.”

Peter bit back a sob, tongue feeling like a lead weight in his mouth. He wanted to swallow it down and choke on it.

His fingers shook as they brushed against the thick fabric of the man’s jeans. He thought of May looking for him by the Ferris wheel. Thought of her calling for him, asking people if they’d seen her nephew, describing his appearance to stall attendees. He thought of his aunt kissing his forehead as he undid the zipper of a stranger’s jeans.

 

“Good boy,” Tony murmured.

Peter eased the zip down, button already undone, and tried to keep his fingers from brushing against the soft cotton underwear, much less what was underneath it.

”Pull them down, go on,” He coaxed, much gentler than before.

Peter complied.

He tugged the fabric down the man’s hips - awkwardly done from the way Tony was half-kneeling, half sitting on the seat - and left them halfway down his thighs.

His voice was a whisper when he spoke. "Is that enough, sir?”

Tony chuckled. “No, sweetheart. Pull my briefs down, too. Surely you’re not this naive, darling. Have you never seen a man’s cock before?”

Peter shook his head. His eyes stung.

"Well, that means you’ll have to listen very closely to what I tell you to do.” Tony threaded a hand through Peter’s hair and clenched his fist, tugging the boy’s hair up by the roots. “Put your hand on my cock, Peter.”

Peter wanted to say no. Wanted to scream at him. Spit in his face. But he was frozen.

And he found his hand coming up to touch soft, semi-hard flesh.

"Go on,” Tony pressed. Peter could sense the strain in his voice - like a cord wound tight, ready to snap. “I think you know what to do now.”

Peter stilled. The weight in his hand made him want to vomit.

"I can’t do this. Please, Tony, I really can’t- you can hit me or do whatever you want, but please,” Peter’s breath hitched. A tear welled and fell down his cheek.

Tony’s grip tightened on his scalp. “What I want is for you to get me off in the back of this car, Peter. Very simple. You’re too pretty to beat, but I’ll do that too, if that’s what you want. You want your teeth cracked, Peter? You want to feel my fist bruise the skin under your eye? Burst blood vessels in your face? I could dislocate your jaw right now and not feel a thing, sweetheart.” Tony leant in, leering. “But I won’t need to if you do as you’re fucking told.”

Something broke in Peter then, and he found himself lashing out, legs kicking up to collide with something - a knee or shin - and fists flailing around wildly in the air. He heard Tony swear, felt his hair being ripped out, but he was blind. The car was pitch black. He was fading with it, and all he had was his fight. He needed to get out. He needed to get out-

"Stop! Stop it, you fucking brat!" The hand on his head found his neck, and Peter landed a kick to something soft just as fingers tightened around his throat.

"Let me go! Help!" The fingers tightened. His throat ached at the pressure. "Please!"

He was sure he saw Tony's eyes roll.

"Now you want to beg? You want to plead for something, slut? Go on, beg me not to choke you out, right now. Tell me how much your life is worth. Tell me how you'd rather die than give a fucking handjob." He shoved Peter backward, using the back of the door as a way to apply more pressure to Peter's neck.

Peter's brain was screaming at him. His face tingled. His chest was heaving with the need to breathe. His back arched, trying to wrench his body free, but he was stuck. He kicked out with his feet as hard as he could, eventually landing one in Tony's stomach. The man grunted, pulling his hand away to grab at Peter's feet.

The rush of air into Peter's lungs made his head spin.

"That how you wanna play it, huh? Alright," Tony's voice was close, gravelly and rough in Peter's ear. He was draped over him, facial hair close enough to scratch at Peter's neck.

His arms reached up to push the man away, scratch at his face - something.

Large hands clasped around his wrists and hit them hard against the window.

Rough, wet, sandpapery - Tony's tongue was licking lines up Peter's neck, around the shell of his ear, across his face. It pushed past his lips, and then he was being kissed, wet and hard, a foreign mouth working at his own with a kind of harsh furiosity. Peter whimpered, feeling the weight of a firm body pressing his legs into the car seat. God, this was how he'd die.

"You just wanted to rough me up first, didn't you, sweetheart? Get me all hot and bothered?" Tony pressed his knee between Peter's legs, rutting his hips up against his stomach.

Peter was suddenly acutely aware of the man's dick pressing into his abdomen, pushing up his t-shirt with each movement.

His hands going numb against the cool glass.

A headache forming at the base of his skull and a sick feeling in his stomach.

 

He imagined the roof of the car caving in. He imagined falling from the top of the Ferris wheel. He imagined drowning. He imagined turning away from the cotton candy stand and seeing May holding two Cokes with bendy straws, smiling and telling him funny stories about people she saw while in line. She was always good at that.

Peter looked up, and his reality was a punch to the gut.

The groaning, the hot breath in his ear, the shifting of fabric.

Skin on his where he didn't want it. Hands on his own that were less than loving. Dark eyes staring into him like he was something to be devoured. To be taken.

Peter shut his eyes.

He didn't have to acknowledge what he couldn't see.

"So fucking pretty under me, sweetheart, God, you have no idea how you look right now,"

He filtered out the words.

"Didn't even need your hands on me after all, honey, fuck, you're so small, so perfect,"

He couldn't hear them. He wasn't there anymore.

He was with May, on the slowest ride they have, eating his cotton candy, laughing.

 

When come splattered against his chest, the hot fluid staining his white shirt, he didn't feel it.

The man pulled away, leaving Peter's body feeling light and slightly cold. Distantly, he heard words being spoken to him, but they didn't register right away.

"Kid, sit up. Come on, back to the present, sweetheart,"

He felt his wrists released, his shoulder being tugged up so that he was sitting. Firm, but gentle. Why was it gentle?

He felt his stomach brushed over, his hair pushed back. His eyes opened, slowly, slowly, not having to adjust to the low light but his head having to reaffirm his place in reality. In that same car.

"There's a good boy," Tony was further away, thankfully (stay back, stay there) and somehow he looked kinder. Calmer. Safer. Peter squirmed in his seat when he finally felt the damp patch on his t-shirt.

"I'll tell you, I haven't gotten off that way for a long time, kid. You've got some ideas," He says, like it's a joke.

 _It wasn't an idea!_ Peter wants to scream. _I didn't want this, I didn't want you. I want to go home._

He finds his voice somewhere in the back of his throat, and it doesn't sound like his own when he speaks. "Can I...Can I go now, Tony?"

The man sat back in the car seat so he was on an angle to Peter. He ran a hand through his hair, combing it back. Wriggled his pants up over his hips once more. "Yeah."

Peter stilled. This had to be a trick. He'd try to leave and he'd be hit again. He spoke slowly when he did. "You're not going to...chase me or anything?"

Tony laughed. "I'm too old for that shit, kid. The whole cat and mouse game got boring when I was in my twenties." He reached into his pocket, and a second later the door lock clicked up.

He was free. He could leave. But Peter was frozen.

"Well, you wanted out, get out. I've got places I want to be - unless you're waiting for something. Did you want me to return the favour, Peter? You change your mind after all?" Tony watched him intently.

"No! No, sir, thank you, I'm fine. I'm just gonna go," His hand clutched the door handle. He pulled up, and he heard the latch open. He pushed, and the door opened a fragment. Cool air blew in through the small gap. He wasn't lying. It was open.

Tony's eyes narrowed. "You're sure?"

Peter hesitated. "Yes, I'm sure- I should be getting back to my aunt..."

"Ah yes, the aunt. Well, Peter, I'd better get you back to the carnival. I think we've established she isn't all the way out here, haven't we?" He grinned, and his canines glinted in the light. "You'll be home safe soon enough."

He leaned forward, and Peter's grip tightened, but he didn't jump out. He didn't move any further.

"Just remember this, Peter: You tell her, or anyone about what we've done here, I'll kill that aunt of yours in front of you, and make you watch me fuck her bloody afterwards." Tony said. Then he moved over, and pushed the door all the way open.

"Now get out, Petey- I fancy myself a corn dog before we go on this little hunt, what do you say?"

Peter slid out of the car. Tony followed.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to parker for explaining american words, and loz for her encouragement <3  
> \---  
> the ending got very sad. it wasn't meant to be sad. it was initially a 'hot, dark fic'. that's not what happened.  
> i may re-write the ending cause i'm not happy with how abrupt it is, but we'll see.
> 
> edit: ending has been extended so i'm more happy w it


End file.
